Somehow I’ve managed to hold on to some of my post-Paris halcyonic feelings and lack of caring about my past infertility/miscarriage misadventures. This has enabled me to enjoy untold riches: I’m still immune to pregnant women and I’ve had no trouble working the quilt for my best friend’s first baby due next month. I even asked her what the name was going to be! This is huge for me.
Big Red arrived last night and I am – without irony – very happy to have it. The post-miscarriage spot watch is over and I actually have a shot at (gasp!) a normal, non-medicated, interfered with or otherwise manipulated cycle. This makes me want to go buy new shoes and get a pedicure or do something similarly girly and distinctly off limits when someone is trying to get knocked up like going to a waterpark or getting on a rollercoaster! Maybe horseback riding? The possibilities are endless.
And, I have definitely decided to take the month of June off. I’m just not ready to jump back in to the melee. When I do get back in, I want to make sure that I am completely ready and I can’t even begin to say that right now. While I am no doubt his favorite patient (what’s not to love?), Dr. Uterus can certainly live without my company for a month.
But, I’ve been rather bemused at myself lately. Who is this girl who uses exclamation points and is chipper about getting her period? Where is our snarky Mrs. X? Did I throw her into the Seine or rig up a guillotine in the Place de la Concorde? None of the above. I just got tired of being negative and whiny. You, dear reader, may not have thought that I was, but I felt it accutely. And, I decided that I was tired of it.
So, I’m trying out the new and improved Mrs. X. She’s certainly not all sunshine and baby animals, but she’s also not the poster child for Woe Is Me Whine and Cheese. Rather than take bets on how long she’ll stick around, I’ll just welcome her into the fold and say, stay as long as you like.